RULES OF THE HOUSE
Alina stayed seated on the edge of the bed, her hands fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. Damian had left, but his words lingered in the empty space like a shadow: "Not of me." She wanted to believe him. She wanted to cling to the hope that maybe this wasn't entirely a nightmare. But every inch of her body still screamed danger. Every instinct told her she wasn't free.
A soft knock at the door made her jump.
"Miss Alina?" The voice was careful, hesitant. The first maid, Lila, peeked in. Her presence felt like a lifeline in the vast, cold luxury.
"Yes?" Alina whispered.
"Mr. Voss asked me to deliver a few things. Your nightwear, some food, and…" Lila hesitated. "…to remind you, he wants you to familiarize yourself with the rules."
Alina's stomach twisted. Rules. She had expected this, but not so soon.
"Rules?" she repeated, her voice sharper than intended.
"Yes," Lila said softly, stepping inside. She placed a tray with tea and a small plate of fruit on the bedside table. "He asked me to explain them. He's… very particular."
Alina swallowed hard. She wanted to retreat into silence, but exhaustion won over fear. "Okay. Tell me."
Lila perched on the arm of a nearby chair, careful to keep a respectful distance. "Rule one: You are not to leave the penthouse without his permission. The doors are monitored, cameras are in the halls. If you attempt to leave, guards will stop you immediately. Rule two: You follow his instructions without argument—about meals, clothing, activities, even visitors. Rule three…" She paused, her voice dropping slightly. "No contact with the outside world unless he authorizes it."
Alina closed her eyes. The words hit her harder than any physical pain. She was a prisoner, carefully draped in silk and marble.
"And there's more," Lila continued quietly. "Rule four: You cannot go anywhere in the penthouse alone until he says it's safe. Rule five: Respect the staff. We are here to assist you, but disobedience has consequences."
Alina's pulse quickened. Consequences. She tried to picture what that could mean. Her mind went to the auction hall, to the way Damian had raised his hand and taken her. That same precision, that same dominance—it didn't leave much room for mercy.
"I… understand," she murmured.
"Good," Lila said, softer now. "I know it feels harsh. It's… it's not meant to scare you. But he has his reasons. He's… careful, in his own way."
Alina's eyes flickered toward Lila, searching for comfort. "In his own way?" she repeated.
Lila gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Yes. He's… complicated. But you're not alone here. Not completely. Me and Sofia…" She nodded toward the other maid, who had been quietly arranging the closet. "…we're here. Think of us as your… friends, if it helps."
Alina blinked. Friends. That word felt strange, heavy with longing. But it also felt like a lifeline. She gave a small nod. "Thank you… really."
The maids exchanged a glance, almost unspoken. Lila moved closer, lowering her voice. "You can talk to us. About anything. About him. About how you feel. We won't judge."
Alina wanted to believe her. She wanted to pour out all the fear, the confusion, the anger. But she only whispered, "…I don't know if I can trust him."
"You don't have to," Lila said. "Not yet. Just… survive the first few days. Get used to the rhythm. Then…" She trailed off.
Alina glanced at her, but Lila just gave a faint shrug, her lips pressing into a line. It was enough for Alina to feel a small ember of hope.
The silence stretched. Alina stared at the tray of tea, the fruit, the perfect bed. The penthouse was beautiful, and it was terrifying. And now, she had rules to obey.
A soft hum of the elevator sounded below. She stiffened. Damian. Of course. He always appeared when she was thinking, wondering, or afraid.
The door clicked open, but it wasn't him this time. It was Sofia, carrying a neatly folded robe. "This is for you, Miss," she said gently. Her hands trembled just slightly, betraying the tension beneath the polite veneer.
Alina hesitated, then took it. "Thank you," she murmured.
Sofia smiled faintly. "It's… just rules. He'll explain the rest soon. You'll see, it's not all bad."
Alina forced a smile. "…Not all bad." She repeated it like a mantra, trying to convince herself.
After the maids left, Alina sat back on the bed, curling the robe around her shoulders. She looked out at the city again. The sun had dipped lower, shadows creeping over the skyline. Even with the golden light fading, the penthouse glimmered like a cage of diamonds.
Her mind wandered to Damian. She remembered his words earlier: "You're safe here." Safe. The word seemed almost a lie in the context of the rules.
A knock at the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts. She froze, unsure if she should answer.
"Alina, come to the living room," Lila's voice whispered through the door. "He… he wants to go over the rules with you. Personally."
Alina's stomach dropped. She didn't want to confront him again. Not yet. Not so soon. But Lila's gentle tone made her comply. Slowly, she got up, walking with tentative steps toward the door.
The maids flanked her as she descended to the living area. Damian was waiting. He didn't stand, didn't move. He simply watched. His eyes were piercing, unreadable, like ice over fire.
"You've met the staff," he said without preamble. His voice was sharp, commanding, and final. "They will follow my instructions. You will follow mine. There are no exceptions."
Alina swallowed. She tried to steady her breathing. "…I understand," she said quietly.
He took a step closer. "Do you?" His eyes scanned her face, gauging, calculating. "…Because this isn't a negotiation. These rules are not suggestions. You break them, you suffer consequences. No one will warn you. No one will intervene."
Her heart pounded violently. She remembered the bruise on her wrist, the way he had caught her. The thought made her shiver.
"I… I'll follow them," she said, though her voice trembled. "I promise."
He nodded once, sharply. "Good. Rule number one: You do not leave this penthouse without my permission. You do not argue. You do not run. You do not question it."
Alina's chest tightened painfully. She nodded again, swallowing back tears.
"Rule number two: You eat what I allow, wear what I allow, and exist where I allow. Your life… here… is mine to manage. Understand?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Rule three: You obey my staff. They are extensions of me. Disrespect them, you disrespect me. And I do not forgive easily."
She blinked, the word forgive cutting deeper than she wanted. "I… understand."
"Rule four: Your contact with the outside world is forbidden. Only I authorize it. Only I." His gaze burned into her, sharp and final. "Do not test me."
Alina's throat tightened. She nodded again, silence her only defense.
"Rule five: You will behave. You will keep calm. You will not provoke me. You will not… tempt me. My patience is finite. Your disobedience will have consequences."
She flinched at the word consequences. Every fiber of her body wanted to scream, to push back, to defy him. But she kept quiet.
"Rule six: You sleep in your room. You move within this penthouse only when permitted. You… exist under my control until I release you. Any question, hesitation, or defiance, and I will remind you why you belong to me."
Alina swallowed hard. She wanted to speak, to protest, but he didn't give her the chance. He turned, walking toward the elevator.
"Questions?" he asked without looking back.
"…No," she whispered, voice barely audible.
"Good. Remember every word. Break any, and you will learn the meaning of rules very quickly."
The elevator doors closed before she could respond. Silence stretched again, heavier than before.
Lila stepped forward. "You… you're okay," she said softly.
Alina nodded. "…I think so."
The maids stayed with her, helping her feel a small flicker of control in a place that allowed none. They showed her how to call for meals, how to use the elevator, how to dress according to Damian's strict instructions. Slowly, tentatively, Alina began to realize that though the penthouse was a cage, she wasn't entirely alone.
For the first time, she allowed herself a small thought: maybe… surviving was possible.
But deep down, Alina knew one truth she couldn't escape: Damian Voss didn't just own her time or her body. He was already claiming her in ways that went beyond rules or cages.
And she was terrified to see how far he would go.